


(I’m forever yours) faithfully

by savethelion



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Failed Marriage Proposal, Fluff, Iwaizumi is a saint, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Pro Volleyball Player Oikawa Tooru, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, existential crisis over the thought of domesticity, flustered yet emotionally grounded iwaizumi is my personal brand, so much fluff you may need a root canal, sometimes you gotta do the Trope you fear the most
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-07-31 14:49:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20116855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/savethelion/pseuds/savethelion
Summary: for the past ten years, oikawa tooru’s life has been one great whirlwind after another – from playing professionally in japan, taking home his one and only gold medal in the summer Olympics, and travelling the world for sponsorships, games, and interviews, all the while being in a relationship with his best friend and pillar, iwaizumi hajime. the fast-paced world of being a professional athlete has always been a part of the plan – hopeful goodbyes, long distance skype calls, and heartfelt reunions a frequency.so why does it suddenly not seem like enough?//or the one where oikawa realizes his dreams don’t always end the way he expects,





	(I’m forever yours) faithfully

**Author's Note:**

> hi sometimes I am in my car for work and I hear something on the radio and am suddenly struck with a bunch of oiiwa feels? I don’t even know what this is but it was supposed to be a short silly songfic but it turned into a monster. in my head i envisioned this as a three part beast but this is all i can muster to write at the moment and i thought i should just buck up and post this much at least
> 
> and Yes it’s loosely inspired by a journey song sue me.

_“and they say that the road ain’t no place to start a family.  
right down the line,  
it’s always been you and me.”_

\--- ---- --- --- --- 

Oikawa prides himself on being incredibly perceptive.

He values his perception in volleyball, a skill that has gotten him to the place he is today. He values his perception when it comes to reading a room, to gauge a talk show audience’s reaction to a well-timed smile. He values his perception when it comes to reading a sports journalist’s bored expression, to tailor his answer to an interview question just right to come off as charming and to earn a few smiles. 

It’s suffice to say, then, sitting in a quiet, low-lit restaurant in the heart of Tokyo, looking across the table at his obviously (adorably) flustered boyfriend, that Oikawa knows where this evening is going. 

“Iwa-chan, are you nervous about something?” Oikawa teases, just because he can, and relishes in the color flooding Iwaizumi’s cheeks, even as Iwaizumi scowls in irritation.

“I’m not nervous,” he scoffs, and Oikawa smiles wider, leaning forward in his seat to press his chin into the palm of his hand, elbow resting on the small, candlelit table, blinking innocently at the other man.

“Well, it’s not very often we come to some place as fancy as this, Hajime,” Oikawa lilts. “You seem a little out of your element.”

“You pointing it out isn’t making it fucking easier,” Iwaizumi hisses.

“Making what easier?” And the way Iwaizumi huffs petulantly and forcefully looks away to avoid eye contact for much longer pretty much confirms Oikawa’s first guess as to what’s going on.

A quiet, private dinner at a fancy restaurant three days before their anniversary? Oikawa would be faux-insulted that Iwaizumi thought his genius brain wouldn’t figure this out, were it not for how adorable the whole situation really is.

For the moment it takes for Iwaizumi to recollect himself, Oikawa’s gaze travels over him, appreciating the entire moment for a bit. Iwaizumi is looking as impeccable as always, perhaps but with a better, more calculated outfit (Oikawa has always loved the way Iwaizumi looks in green, and it’s obvious from the forest green button up, sleeves rolled up halfway to reveal tanned and toned arms, that it was, in fact, very calculated). His hair is styled normally, but Oikawa can tell from the slight shine in the dim light that Iwaizumi used some product in it to get it right, an effort he rarely afflicts. He even went as far as to fully shave, even though Oikawa has grown fond of the light beard Iwaizumi has been partial to these days.

He cleans up very well, Oikawa muses, fighting back a sudden urge to giggle at the whole situation. The amount of effort Iwaizumi has put into his appearance alone has Oikawa very, very sure of his intentions.

Iwaizumi takes a deep breath, as though to ground himself, and looks back at Oikawa with a newfound sense of determination, and Oikawa mentally prepares himself for whatever his boyfriend is about to say or do.

“Look, I know I don’t need to tell you how much I love you. I know you know, but – I had this whole thing planned out in my head for a week and I’m going to say it anyway, And don’t,” Iwaizumi warns suddenly, probably noticing the small glint of mischief in Oikawa’s eyes, or perhaps just knowing, “interrupt me. Or tease me or do any of your bantering shit, or I’ll never fucking do this.”

Iwaizumi pauses, and Oikawa only continues to grin cheekily at him. Iwaizumi sighs, mindlessly playing with the cuff of his shirt sleeve.

“I’ve known since the day I met you that you are the most stubborn, whiney, insufferable person I’ve ever met,” Iwaizumi begins, and Oikawa immediately yelps in protest.

“This is _not_ telling me how much you love me!” Oikawa says, and Iwaizumi immediately leans across the table to cuff him.

“I told you to shut up for a bit, idiot,” Iwaizumi says as Oikawa rubs at the spot at his head dramatically, all the while the both of them are sporting two matching, fond smiles. “And I wasn’t even finished.

“What I was _trying_ to say,” Iwaizumi continues, smile wavering as he sobers a little, resolved again in his determination, and Oikawa decides to humor him, “is that you are stubborn and whiney and absolutely incorrigible at the best of times, but you are also selfless and thoughtful and – and absolutely extraordinary. That I can be – so fucking graced as to be a part of your whirlwind of a life and be able to stand by you and watch you through everything – I don’t know where I got to be that lucky.”

And yes, Oikawa may be extremely perceptive and may know exactly what Iwaizumi is planning right now, but, damn it anyway, the words still wrap like a vice around Oikawa’s heart. Iwaizumi is blushing beautifully again, staring at Oikawa so intently that Oikawa can see his own reflection in his irises. For all of Iwaizumi’s ploy at being tough and brutish, the man is one of the sappiest Oikawa knows, painfully open and honest about his feelings. Simple about them, even, in a way that Oikawa leans on and breathes in.

The quiet pause that follows Iwaizumi’s words seem like an opportune time for Oikawa to react, to say something, but he can’t seem to find the words, anymore. The easy teases on his tongue from a moment ago are evaporated now, and Oikawa just gives Iwaizumi a slight nod to signal he’s listening, Iwaizumi, as though waiting for the move, swallows and continues.

“It’ll be ten years, officially, on Monday. Since we got off our asses and started actually dating. And – and I wanted to surprise you then, with something, since you’ll be over in America for your press tour before trials and I’ll still be here, but – I don’t know, something told me to do this properly. Right. With you here with me.” 

The reminder of Oikawa’s upcoming two and a half week trip to America with the rest of the national team, normally, would sour Oikawa’s mood a little. Being gone from Iwaizumi for that long isn’t unusual – hell, during Oikawa’s preparation for the Tokyo Olympics, he’d spent nearly three months training in Los Angeles four years ago, which had been its own kind of hell – but they’ve never, ever been apart on their anniversary. He hadn’t been thrilled with the news, but with help from his publicist and Iwaizumi himself, he’s gotten less upset in the preparation for it.

And with the words that Iwaizumi is saying right now and everything else that is culminating tonight, Oikawa would safely say that not even Ushijima Wakatoshi suddenly showing up could ruin this.

“So – God, how do I even want to –“ Iwaizumi trails off, running a hand through his hair absently, and Oikawa reaches out on instinct to grab his wrist to stop him, easing his hand down.

“You’re thinking too much, Hajime,” Oikawa tells him, smiling fondly and twining his fingers with Iwaizumi’s. His boyfriend watches their joined hands carefully, and suddenly, he’s letting out a quiet breath of laughter.

“You know exactly what’s going on here, don’t you?” Iwaizumi asks, and Oikawa can tell by the slow release of tension in his shoulders and neck that it really doesn’t irritate him that Oikawa nods in confirmation.

“So believe me when I say, you are doing fine, and you couldn’t possibly do this wrong. In fact, with all the flattery you’ve been handing out tonight and the pretty way you’ve been blushing – I would say you’re doing very well,” Oikawa assures him, and Iwaizumi laughs again; a simple and quiet, but genuine and relaxed sound.

“Stupidkawa, I can’t even surprise you anymore,” Iwaizumi says.

“Of course you do – you can,” Oikawa protests immediately, and Iwaizumi blinks a little in surprise. “Everyday you do.”

It isn’t the heartfelt and sappy speech Iwaizumi had given just moments prior, but Iwaizumi still smiles and blushes like it is. Like he knows exactly what Oikawa really means, buried in the few words (no, not like he knows. He does. He always does).

Iwaizumi breathes in and out once more, squeezing Oikawa’s hand once before slowly letting go. And Oikawa only has a second to mourn the loss before Iwaizumi is reaching into one of his pockets and slowly pulls out a small, navy blue box. And Oikawa’s heart is beating double time, eyes flickering from the thing to Iwaizumi and back again. And Oikawa definitely knows what’s in the box – from his thousands of hints and carefully left open Pinterest boards, there’s no way Iwaizumi doesn’t have the ring that Oikawa has been pining over since they started dating trapped in that little box.

_Ask me. Ask me ask me ask me._ Oikawa meets Iwaizumi’s eyes, and they’re both smiling like idiots even though they haven’t even said anything yet. And fuck it, Oikawa doesn’t need Iwaizumi to say anything – just open the box and that’ll be enough, that’ll be it. The day Oikawa has been waiting for a decade to come –

_“Oikawa Tooru? Is that really him?”_

Like a piece of delicate glass falling to a concrete floor, the moment shatters, and Oikawa’s heart nearly stops as he instantly whirls around in his seat in the direction of this stranger’s voice. It’s a young woman and what must be her date, having just entered the quiet restaurant and noticing the setter of Japan where no one else had.

Until now, of course.

The woman’s outburst has clearly affected the patrons of the restaurant, all of them turning to look in Oikawa’s direction, and a dull chatter seems to fill the restaurant that has the dread in Oikawa’s stomach shifting to discomfort, knowing full well what’s bound to transpire now that someone has pointed him out in public.

A short glance at Iwaizumi tells him that his boyfriend-would-be-fiancé can tell, too. Iwaizumi’s face has morphed back into an impassive, hardened mask he usually adapts when dealing with the public – a look that has not garnered him many favors with Oikawa’s adoring congregation. Oikawa widens his eyes in a silent sort of plea – for deliverance, for forgiveness, for what Oikawa doesn’t know – and Iwaizumi shrugs with one shoulder, slowly sliding the ring box from the table.

“What do you want to do?” Iwaizumi says, so quietly it’s almost lost to the chatter around them, and Oikawa can see the young woman – the one who ousted him – out of the corner of his eye approaching him. She’s carrying herself with ease and confidence, and Oikawa can easily decipher she’s probably not a fan but some tabloid journalist. 

It makes the decision easier, anyway.

“We should go,” Oikawa says, loudly, enough so that he hopes anyone within shooting range of him can hear him.

Iwaizumi – blessed, wonderful Iwaizumi – is already throwing down a fair stack of yen on the table, probably way more than he needs, and grabs for Oikawa’s hand again. The two of them stand in well-practiced unison, and Oikawa pointedly ignores the woman until she’s practically right on top of him.

“Oikawa-sama, do you have a moment?” the woman asks, and Oikawa grits his teeth in frustration over the uselessness of the question, knowing full well the woman is going to try to talk to him no matter what he says.

Iwaizumi shows his colors again, however, and answers for him in a blunt, no-nonsense tone: “Sorry, we were just leaving.”

“Not even a minute?” the woman hounds. “Just a few questions about your upcoming tour in America-“

“Well, there’s the interesting thing about a press tour,” Oikawa says finally, unable to really help himself and casting a devilishly sweet smile over at the woman. “There will be plenty of _real_ press questions then, no?”

The veiled insult either flies over the tabloid reporter’s head or she elects to ignore it entirely, because she steamrolls on, “There have been several rumors regarding the upcoming Olympic trials and which of your teammates will be trying. Just a quick word on –“

“My teammates’ professional career choices are of their own business,” Oikawa says icily. “I suggest you interrupt _their_ Friday night if you want answers on whether or not they intend to attend trials.”

“Let’s go,” Iwaizumi hisses, tugging at Oikawa’s hand, all the while the reporter looks a little gob smacked by Oikawa’s brashness. Of course, it’s unusual for Oikawa to treat any member of the press, tabloid or not, with this level of shortness, but Oikawa is more than a little irritated at the moment.

There will probably be a hot article in some popular tabloid Monday morning about how _rude_ and _unapproachable_ the star setter of Japan really is, and his publicist will be irate, but Oikawa doesn’t really care, at the moment. All that matters to him is getting out of this damn restaurant and out of the prying eyes of the public. Which Iwaizumi is doing a stellar job of, at the moment, leading Oikawa straight out of the restaurant without so much a glance at the host at the front, who to his credit looks ready to offer some sort of apology. Not that Oikawa is in any mood to hear it.

The cool, night breeze hitting his face seems to shake him a little out of his own head, and Oikawa lets out a shaky breath he hadn’t even been aware he was holding. Iwaizumi pulls him further away from the restaurant and down the street a ways, free hand extending to wave in the air for a cab. Only when he finally catches one does he look over at Oikawa.

It’s a testament to Iwaizumi’s brilliance that he only looks concerned. If Oikawa were in his place, having his proposal moment ruined, he isn’t sure he would be as collected. In fact, Oikawa is furious enough for Iwaizumi; if their roles were swapped he would be positively irate.

Iwaizumi shows none of those things, though, at least not on his face. He truly is far too wonderful, for Oikawa. To not even be at least disappointed by the nights events.

“You okay?” Iwaizumi’s soft, calming voice breaks Oikawa from his thoughts, and Oikawa feels him squeeze his hand a little in reassurance, eyes searching. 

Oikawa can’t really answer him honestly, at the moment, because he’s still wired with irritation and disappointment and leftover adrenaline that he isn’t sure he is okay. But he squeezes Iwaizumi’s hand back, and Iwaizumi must think that’s enough, because he doesn’t press. Instead, he leads Oikawa into the cab.

To make the night even drearier, it starts to rain in the silent ride back to their apartment in Sumida – a bit of a drive from the busier nightlife area of Shinjuku, which does nothing, really, to lift Oikawa’s mood at all. He’s almost hyperaware of Iwaizumi’s presence in the cab, even if his boyfriend isn’t attempting to breach the silence. 

They hold hands though almost out of habit and the ever-present need to be connected, somehow. It’s enough.

Sumida is far quieter and less densely populated this late at night, which is a welcome familiarity as the cab slows itself to a halt in front of their apartment building. Oikawa recalls at time, back when he and Iwaizumi were trying to find their first place together, when Oikawa thought he would dread the quieter district of Tokyo. It was better for his image and his career, he had insisted, if he was closer to the center.

“Which is exactly why you need a place that offers some solitude,” had been Iwaizumi’s resounding argument, and it was one of the few instances in their relationship where Iwaizumi had won.

Now, Oikawa can’t imagine being any place else. Especially after tonight, when being awash in city lights and too many people crowding the way to his home seems far too difficult a task to bear.

It’s Iwaizumi again who pays for the fare, and Oikawa would feel at least a little bit bad about that if he weren’t already peeling out of the cab and setting a brisk pace towards the building’s door. It’s raining heavily, now, soaking through Oikawa’s light jacket and dripping through his styled hair, which normally would set Oikawa into a whiney fit. But it hardly matters, now. It’s not like he needs to look presentable for anything, anymore.

Iwaizumi is not far behind him, as always, and the short walk to their apartment together is, again, defined by silence. Only when Oikawa unlocks the door and the two of them slip inside does Iwaizumi grab Oikawa’s elbow, a grip that’s light and comforting but still hard enough to discourage Oikawa from running away, which Oikawa is wont to do.

“I wasn’t finished, you know.”

Oikawa tenses, casting a glance back over his shoulder at Iwaizumi. His boyfriend is soaking wet, green shirt sticking to his arms (which does define his muscles a little more, so Oikawa doesn’t really mind that) and formerly spiked hair dripping down on his forehead. Oikawa isn’t sure if he prefers this look or the put-together and stylized version from earlier. 

This version of Iwaizumi is looking at him so carefully and thoughtfully that Oikawa’s heart thuds uncomfortably against his chest, and this Iwaizumi is the only one who can do that.

“I’m sorry,” is what Oikawa responds with, turning more fully so he can look Iwaizumi in the eyes.

“What for?” Iwaizumi responds with immediately, and Oikawa sighs, because of course.

“You know what for,” Oikawa says stubbornly. 

“I really don’t.” Iwaizumi does this exact thing when he wants Oikawa to tell him what’s upsetting him, or why he’s feeling sorry, or – basically anytime Iwaizumi wants to know Oikawa’s deepest hidden feelings. Oikawa doesn’t think it should still work as well as it does, but it does anyway.

“For – for ruining your proposal,” Oikawa blurts out, screwing his eyes shut because he can feel the tears coming and it would be awfully pathetic for him to cry right now. “I know you tried hard to set it up right, and you did your hair and cleaned your face and wore your best shirt that you know I love and you tried _so hard_ only for me to fuck it all up. You only get one chance to propose and of course, since you’re dating the worst boyfriend ever –“

“Shittykawa.” The nickname stops Oikawa in his tracks, and Oikawa opens his eyes in bewilderment. Iwaizumi is looking at him sternly, a look that Oikawa knows well enough to know means he’s running his mouth about stupid things. It’s a look that means _“shut the fuck up”_ in the strictest sense; _“you’re an idiot but I love you anyway for some reason”_ in another.

“You can’t seriously think I’m angry with you over this,” Iwaizumi continues, and Oikawa’s silence must answer for him, and Iwaizumi frowns. “You haven’t ruined anything, you dumbass.”

“But the reporter –“

“So we had to leave a restaurant because people recognized you. Do you think, that after five years of you being a professional volleyball player, that that’s not something I’m used to?” Iwaizumi’s hand migrates from his elbow to his wrist, and Oikawa is instantly warmed by the gesture. “Do you think that’s not something I accept?”

Oikawa, of course, knows this. He knows Iwaizumi is the most patient person in the world and accepts Oikawa’s career for everything it’s worth, the good, bad, and otherwise. He’s been dragged along for the whirlwind of the ride Oikawa’s fame brings, and this is the first time that Oikawa is unhappy with it. Usually, Iwaizumi’s firm acceptance of it is reassuring, but tonight it’s grating.

Iwaizumi shouldn’t have to accept that his well-planned evening went amiss.

“I don’t _want_ you to be okay with this,” Oikawa says out loud, and Iwaizumi tilts his head in confusion.

“The ruined proposal thing or you being a professional volleyball player thing?” he asks, gently curious, and Oikawa has to turn away, because he can’t stand to see Iwaizumi not angry about this.

“The proposal thing. The press thing. The – the _everything,_” Oikawa says, frustrated in his inability to come up with the right words to express why this bothers him so much. “You – you deserve to feel upset about this, Hajime. _Why_ aren’t you upset about this?”

“Because I’m not?” Iwaizumi definitely sounds confused, now, but is obviously refusing to back down from this, if the tightened grip on Oikawa’s hand is anything to go off of. “I’m not in a relationship with you so I can propose to you perfectly, Oikawa.”

“Then why are you?” Oikawa blurts out, jerking his head to look Iwaizumi in the eyes again. “Most _sensible_ boyfriends would be angry about this. Most normal partners would hate being interrupted by the press, to be forced out of a restaurant because their boyfriend is the most interesting thing to have happened to Japan, apparently, in years. There’s a reason half the national team is without partners; sport stardom is no road to start a real foundation on. Maybe we were both stupid enough to think otherwise.”

Iwaizumi blinks, taking all of Oikawa’s words in in silence. Oikawa narrows his eyes to avoid looking at him directly, focusing somewhere on Iwaizumi’s chest where his heart would be. Oikawa’s heart is still doing summersaults.

“Tooru, look at me.” Iwaizumi’s voice is soft, but not at all gentle, and Oikawa can detect the first flickers of something in his voice. Not exactly anger, or disappointment, or annoyance, or even dismissal; something softer around the edges but still blunt enough to make an impact.

Oikawa looks up, and drowns in the intense ocean that is Iwaizumi’s eyes. It’s as though Iwaizumi is channeling every bit of emotion he has into his gaze alone.

“Tooru you know none of that is true, don’t you?” Iwaizumi says, and Oikawa opens his mouth, almost dutifully, to protest, but Iwaizumi raises his free hand and slaps it over his mouth. The gesture stuns Oikawa for a moment, and he snaps his mouth closed against Iwaizumi’s palm.

“I would be with you regardless of if you were an Olympic gold medalist or if you were a cosmic space invader that you used to dream of being when you were so young,” Iwaizumi continues forcefully, and typically that would at least crack a smile out of Oikawa, but he doesn’t budge tonight. Still, only when he is certain Oikawa isn’t going to interrupt does he slowly remove his hand from Oikawa’s mouth, and slowly drifts to settle on Oikawa’s neck. Oikawa leans in to the touch subconsciously, feeling warm even despite the cold rain still sticking to his body.

“I would want to spend the rest of my life with you, no matter what. I don’t care about the reporters. I don’t care about your teammates or what article about you crops up in a magazine tomorrow or how much time you have to spend away on a press tour or any of that. I care about _you._ I am proud of you and your accomplishments and I would _never_ tear your dreams away from you.” Iwaizumi squeezes Oikawa’s wrist again, and Oikawa’s breath catches in his throat. “I would propose to you in a fancy restaurant, in our apartment, in the – the dumpster yard in Miyagi –“

“Iwa-chan, I would certainly hope not.” Oikawa smiles, finally, rather weakly, but it’s enough. Iwaizumi returns it tenfold.

“Trash begets trash,” Iwaizumi jibes, and the whine from Oikawa is more instinct than anything, but Iwaizumi’s smile never falters. “But I’m in this mess, too, so I suppose the trashiness is mutual.”

Oikawa laughs, and it’s full-bodied and real and he nearly falls against Iwaizumi with the suddenness of it. Of course Iwaizumi catches him, allows him to lean against his chest as he shakes uncontrollably with giggles, faces inches apart and breaths mingling together. It’s made better that Oikawa can feel Iwaizumi’s laughter against his lips, feel his chest heaving with it against his own.

It takes them a moment to come off of it, and they do so gradually and easily. Oikawa doesn’t move to pull away from Iwaizumi though, resting his forehead against his, noses touching. 

When a comfortable silence has settled over them, Iwaizumi murmurs against Oikawa’s lips words that settle deep into Oikawa’s brain:

“Until the day you decide to retire, this road is perfect.”

_Until you decide to retire._ Funnily enough, Oikawa had never considered that as even a possibility. Retirement, to spend the rest of his life with Iwaizumi…

Was he really upset that Iwaizumi wasn’t upset, or more upset with himself being unable to have a blissful moment of domesticity? Oikawa has never thought about it before, not to this extent. For the first time, in their ten year relationship, Oikawa is wondering what it would be like to…maybe _settle down._

It’s a messy barrage of thoughts at the moment, though, and Iwaizumi is staring at him as though he’s waiting for a response. And Oikawa can’t think about these conflicting feelings of retirement and domesticity and _life_ when a bigger issue is facing him in the present.

“I didn’t even get to see it,” he says, mouth twitching in a half smile, and Iwaizumi, predictably, rolls his eyes.

“Of course that’s what you’re worried about. Your precious ring.” But Iwaizumi is smiling fondly, and Oikawa is soaring. “Maybe it’s better you get to see it here, instead of risking ugly crying in public.”

“I do not ugly cry. About anything,” Oikawa lies petulantly.

“Of course not,” Iwaizumi says. “Now back off; if you’re going to see it I’m going to do it right.”

He doesn’t want to, at first; being this close to Iwaizumi is always Oikawa’s favorite place to be, the only place he truly feels safe and unbothered and his raging thoughts seem to slow. But his ultimate desire to see, to finish what had been started earlier tonight, eventually wins out so Oikawa can take a small step backwards from his boyfriend.

Iwaizumi seems to mentally shake himself, heaving a deep breath and even shaking his wet arms a little like a dog shaking its wet fur, and Oikawa smirks at the image. Maybe they could get a dog, one day. Or three. Maybe three dogs and a home in Miyagi with enough room for them to run around and play…

And Oikawa has to stop his thoughts there, because not only were they horrifying and absolutely _not_ what he wanted to think about right now, but also because Iwaizumi is doing something that is far more worthy of his attention right now.

His boyfriend has taken that small ring box out of his pocket again. And this is it. Soaking wet from the rain, in a small apartment in the outer district of Tokyo, not having even bothered to turn most of the lights on, the least picturesque scene Oikawa can picture, but it’s the most wonderful thing that Oikawa can imagine. Iwaizumi drops to one knee and Oikawa has to physically hold back a squeak of glee.

“Oikawa Tooru – the best setter in all of Japan, the most annoying asshole I’ve ever met, _the love of my fucking life,_” Iwaizumi says, looking up at Oikawa like he’s hung the moon, and Oikawa knows he’s looking back with the same amount of passion. “Will you-“

In the end, despite trying his damnedest to stay put and let Iwaizumi finish, Oikawa can’t, and has his arms thrown around Iwaizumi’s neck and lips pressed against his as Iwaizumi is forming the last words. Oikawa swallows them, taking every last word Iwaizumi will ever say to him like a lifesaving breath. Iwaizumi is shocked for only a second before he kisses back, catching Oikawa around the waist to keep him from toppling over entirely, still kneeling and holding the both of them as upright as they can be. 

Oikawa pulls away first, even as Iwaizumi chases after him and his heart is beating something fierce and almost painful, but he’s warm and tingly all over and he feels like he’s floating, and it’s the best possible feeling in the whole damn world.

“Is there any other answer?” Oikawa says, and he can feel Iwaizumi’s smile against his lips. “Of course I’ll marry you. Of course I will.”

“You’ll never let me finish anything, will you?” Iwaizumi says exasperatedly, but fondly.

“Never, but you’ll get used to it,” Oikawa replies, and wiggles his nose against Iwaizumi’s a little to prove his point, and Iwaizumi blushes. “You get used to all my weird and annoying things.”

“I’m sure I’ll grow to love you.” And Iwaizumi kisses Oikawa again, smile still warm on his lips, and Oikawa loses himself all over again.

\------- ------- -------

**Author's Note:**

> in case you're wondering, oikawa's vision of his 'perfect' wedding ring is a simple band he doesn't have to take off often (even during matches he wears it on a chain around his neck instead of his finger) and strong, with an alexandrite (iwaizumi's birthstone) stone and just intricate enough without being gaudy, probably similar to this one. https://www.etsy.com/dk-en/listing/605364623/mens-barrel-cut-alexandrite-gemstone  
he insists iwaizumi should match and have a ring with his birthstone as well, even though bright red rubies are a little too overstated for iwaizumi's taste (and liking more of the traditional diamonds). so they compromise (by that i mean oikawa pretty much wins) with someting with both. https://www.sears.com/jewelry-avalanche-8mm-black-ip-dome-tungsten-wedding/p-A015048808?selectedFilters=Stone%20Type|Alexandrite&plpSellerId=Jewelry%20Avalanche&prdNo=34&blockNo=34&blockType=G34
> 
> yes i spent too much time thinking about that minor detail.


End file.
